


How To Make A Cursed Show

by HannaM



Category: The Fear of Painting (Drawfee Series)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaM/pseuds/HannaM
Summary: After Satan's infomercial schemes prove less than successful, he is open to hearing Julia Lepetit's pitch for a new educational program.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	How To Make A Cursed Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaerstyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaerstyne/gifts).



“So, beloved Julia. You are interested in creating a program for TV?”

Satan had donned a suit and a mostly humanoid form for the occasion, but as usual he had taken some creative liberties. His handsome human face was half shadowy and indistinct (the smoke from his cigarette only amplified this effect) and his suit had somehow developed a popped collar. It was, Julia thought, a good sign.

“Very interested, sir.” She paused. “You said something about it airing outside of Hell?”

“Some time ago I had the idea to buy a block of time on a public access television station. At first we tried running infomercials, but strangely neither 1-800-SELL-UR-SOUL nor Lil’ Satan’s Home Sacrifice Altar (With FREE Goat!) proved particularly successful. What we need is something at least superficially appropriate for all ages, with a minimal budget. And oh yes, if there’s any chance of ‘going viral’ on the internet…”

“I understand.” Julia folded her hands on the desk and smiled. “Have you considered educational programming?”

“Educational?” Satan frowned, the shadows growing more pronounced in his face. “I’m not sure we could get How To Murder Your Parents past the censors…”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Julia smiled again, and in the next moment, she was holding a paintbrush in one hand. “Just a nice, quiet show about painting. Like I said, educational.”

“Ah yes, you’re a professional artist…” Satan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I assume there’s a little more to it than that? We don’t want to be accused of ripping off Bob Ross.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had a friendly chat with his people.” Julia examined the paintbrush, holding it up to her ear. For a moment, there was a faint, shrill sound, almost like a tiny scream. “Anyway, as I was saying, I would have guests on each episode to paint along with me.”

“I see, I see… and what would you paint? The Elder Gods? Famous natural disasters? The members of KISS?”

“Perhaps.” Julia smiled.

“Hmm… it has potential.” Still, Satan didn’t look entirely satisfied. “What happens to the guests?”

Julia smiled again.

"̷̦᷿̹͓̙̯̼̖́͊͌͋̏̀͗᷈͂͠W̷̖̮̞̝̘̳ͮͪ̃̋̑͛͌̍͡͞e̴̡̳̗̳̿ͯ᷄᷇᷇̓͢l̷᷿̻̙̹͕̄̀ͤ͟ḻ̴̲̙̪͋͐ͫ͗̀͗ͩ͞ s̷̹̼̤᷂̪᷉︣̀͌᷈ͣ͒̾͡i̴᷿̣͎̩̪̗᷾ͨ̆︣͂̇᷆̀̐r̶̜̲͖̰͈︣̉ͦ̔͑̆͡,̸̬́︢͑︢̈́ͨͥ̆ I̷̞̲͑ͩ̔͠͞͝ t̴̡̡͇͖͓̜᷿̺͓̜͊ͪ̓ḩ̷̱͚̟͕̩̬̽̎᷾︣͑̓᷄͆͘͢͜o̷͈̳̱͌̍ͣ̽̿̔̐᷆ͤṷ̷̡̢̪᷊̯̬̦̘̼͌g̷̛͔̲᷿̘̣̳̗̓̅͜h̶͔̙͕̩͔̝̼̉̂ͭ̇t̵̠̺͇̣̤̱͚̀͛ͤ︡̓ͭ͋͗̄͘ a̴̰̘̯̮̪͈᷾̓᷉ͤͥ̀b̷̧̬͇᷊̳̌͗̋̈̏͆ͤ᷅o̵̞̖᷿̔͌͛᷆̓ų̵᷿͚̮̞̯̗̝̳︢ͩt̶̗̻̩̱᷅᷀͐ͯ︢͠ ą̶̨̪ͪ︠͗ͪ̏̈ͤ̂̌ f̴̢̗᷀᷈͋͐̌ͭ᷁̐ê̸̡̬̹̰᷾ͨ͘͝w̸̨̻̻ͭ̋̉ͧ᷉᷀͘͞͡ r̶̨̨̩͕͑̀͐︣͜i̴̹̰᷊͚᷊̱̝͓̖̕͜͞t̵͇᷿̖̬̭͚͆͆̈ṷ̶̰̻̠̺̜̼̰᷿̼͐a̷̧̡̦̞᷿̞̜͔̩᷉᷃̀͒́͢l̷̛̝᷊͐︢̈︠͐s̷̰ͬͤ̔̚,̶͚᷊̼̲̱̤̗ͪ̓̿ a̸̖̤͈︣́᷁̑᷃ͫͧ͡ f̶̛͓̭̦ͨͮ︠͊e̴͓̟̝̣̞̹̫͊̕͢w̸̢̭͕̲̝͎͎̱͛͜͜ s̸͔̺͉ͣ︡̏᷆᷆͆̑a̷̰̭ͫ᷇ͧ̍̐ͭͭͥ͐͟ç̴͇̫̱̫̙͓̺᷈̍̽͒᷉́̋̀̕͡ṟ̸͖̐ͯ͆́̌᷀̎͐͜i̴᷊͚͓͕̺͉͓͓͊ͦ︠͟f̴̹̜͎̍̍᷾ͪ͗͊̋̀︢ͩį̷̝̈́͛︠̕c̷̢̧̨͇᷿᷂̼̲̪̙᷾ę̵̨̻̱̳̳̮͈̹͓̾̓͊᷆̀͝s̷̤̦̫ͪ̐,̶̣͔̭̦̝̦̔ͭ͂͌ͣ̈︠̔ͦ︡͢ ś̶̯͔̜̖̪̖͚̽̌̇̀ỡ̶̰̦̯͈̺͌᷅ͭ̿̔︣̐͝m̴̩̲̗͌᷾᷁ͭe̴̞̗̤͖̪͈ͬ͐ͥ̓᷀̂︠͟͟͟͞ t̵̳̗͓̳̳̍͟ŕ̶͎̻̩̖᷿͕̟͕︡͐͢a̵̮̹̣̺̗̤̩᷃̄ͣ︠͟n̷̩͕ͯ᷃᷀̾̀̉̽ͫ͘͡s̸͕̮̜̱̫͉͓̠̞̜︠͠f̷̹̩̼̞ͨ̾̇᷈͟o̸͕̦̜︡ͨr̴̢̢̀͋︠᷅̍͋m̷̰̽͞a̶͚̱͋ṫ̴̜̞̞͎ͩ͋᷉᷉︡̓̕i̴̢̢̯̞̻̫᷈͘o̶̹̫̻᷊̩̻̓ͥ͐͋͂ͫ͐̽͟͞n̸̞̈́ͣ︢͌s̷̡̪᷊̘̘̱͇̦͗̄ͨͪ̄᷈ͥͤ͘͢͜,̴̧̢̦̞͓̻͈̺᷊ͩ᷉͐ͣ s̴̘̬ͬ᷇̌̓ȍ̷͔̫︣̈́ͯ̇͜m̵̧̻͇̘̞᷁̇͑͒́̚͟͢͠ȩ̵̧̭̺̞̣̳͕͕ͪ̔ͮ̈̄͊᷇͂̆ͪ p̵̫̝͖︠͒͒͟͟ṙ̶̘ͭ̀ͧ̿ͣ̿̃͝e̵͉̦᷿͉̪͠͝s̴̹̫̽e̸̜̼̬̜̹͔᷈᷀᷇r̶̡̡͎̩͓͔̪͕᷿̘̃ͣ̉v̶̡̢̗̠̳᷿̖̰̙᷆͜a̶̼᷿̙̹̳̲͂︠̏᷅̋̕͡ț̷̲̩̞̫̻᷂̪͊́︢͋︠̌ͦ͂i̸̡̛̳͉̱̤̦ͧ᷃̓ͨͬ͡o̵͎͕̲̻̽̂͌ͤ͞n̶͔̜̞̭᷂̄̓̀ͦ̓ͧ︡̿s̵᷿̟͎̘͔᷊̮̰̟̔̽̅ͬ à̶͓͕ͯ͂̓̓͢n̵̬͚̣̹̘͎︣̽᷁᷄︢̐̓̀︢͝d̶̨̙̰̝̮͈̹̼̟̟ͧ̅︢͂ t̴̨̞̬̟̱̋̾ͭͣ͢r̶̟̤̙̝̭̠ͫ̓̽̋͗̓͢a̷̧̲᷊͔͇͆᷁͞p̴̬̜̯᷂̦̖͐ͥ᷁̋ś̷̮̠᷈̍̽̏᷾̇.̶̧͚̹͚̬̪͆᷀̈́̑̓ O̴̡͚̳̞̙̫᷊͓̹᷾̿ͨ̽̈b̴̨̮̘̰͈̙̾ͬ᷾ͭ̐ͤ͝v̶͔̝︠͋ͤ͂̓̚͟ī̵̢̛̝̞ͨ̔ͬ͛o̵̢͓̰̯͇᷊̖͉͛̅᷅᷉̀᷉̂͘͘u̴̞ͮ͡s̸̝̖̱͓̝̫̮͕︣̑͛᷄̓ͯ͊͑͘͝l̷͔͎͖᷂̽y̷̦̩̤̬̳͌ͤ̓᷄̀︡͜ Ì̵̡̻̫͚᷊͓̹'̷̡̡͕᷊̭͇̙ͤ᷅́́᷀̀︠͡͡d̶̢̯̘͇̜̳̰̙᷇᷉ l̵ͬ̋̄ͧͮ᷉͢i̶̬̼̐︢︣̀̈́᷄͊̓ͬ̕͟k̷̞̈̋͛e̴̻͗̏̔̀ͭ i̴̗̘̠̺̰͕̤᷿͛ͤ͋̉̾͐t̶̢̢᷿̺̭̟͎̺̗͒︡᷀᷈ͧͣ͢͡ i̶̧̦̪̜̟᷿̲ͯ̋̽͋ͤͤ͞͠͠f̴̠̭̱᷊̲̮͈ͫͭ᷆︡̅︠̀ t̶͎̠᷇̕ḫ̸᷿̍̆ē̴̬᷅᷁᷇y̵̡̙̦᷊̮̲̙̗̖̘̔ c̶̡̨̙̯̺̭̹᷆̐̄᷾͗ͨa̷̲̜̙͉̭͔͖̽n̸̡̺̙̣̏͒̓̌̈́᷉ͭͦ͜͝ s̴͚̖ͣ᷃᷆᷈́͘t̵̼̠᷊̹͉̩̙̜̦︣ͥͤ̍i̸̭̬̰̙ͦ̉̀̆̑᷁̔̚̚͜͝l̷̰̤̯᷊̻︢̍̽ͣ᷀͜͢l̸̫̣͓̜͚͕̼̼ͯ̅ͨ̅͆᷃ s̷͇͑͛᷅ç̴̘̙̖᷂̼̙᷃͢͢ŕ̵̢̠̭̳̱͓̼͈͊᷉᷾̑̆︡ͫ̄͟͡ē̴̡̝̲a̵̳̮̠͈̗᷉︡̏᷃ͥ͗͆́m̶̩̙͚̏,̴̡̰̲̞̜̻̠̀ͬ̌̔ b̸̰̝͓͊ṳ̶̡̞̦̰̎́̈́̿ͣ̏t̸̢͉̠̳ͯ︡ͨ̎᷀͡ a̵̧̢̲̼͉̱᷊̿ͨͩ̍̾ͯͧ︡᷉s̸̩͕̺̞̳͚͕̍͆︣̋̕̚͞ I̷͓ͥ͒̐'̷̢͇̱᷂̦̩̦̘̦̈᷇͗̈́͛̐̋̓̑͜͡v̶᷿̰ͭͮ᷾͌͊͋̾̀ͯ̚e̸̡̪͓̝̫͇̔̐᷾͑͝ d̷̰̠̝͑̀͑︡͛ͪ͢͢i̵̝̮̮᷈ͨ̓s̵͆͐̓̐᷅͜͞͡c̵̨̻̲̿ͬ͆᷆͒̎͗ȍ̷̢̡̝̫͇̣ͣ͘v̴̩︣᷅᷄ͯ́̿͒e̵̼̠͕ͥ̐᷈ͮͮͬ᷈r̷̲͉̯̰͇͉̗̲᷿᷊︡ͫͧ᷉̔̈͑̎̓͡ę̸̡͓̻᷿̘̙̖᷇ͥd̶͚̭̣͎᷊᷂᷂᷇͌̍,̷͎̼͎̭̎͜ y̴̲̼᷿̰͎ͬͧ͋̄̎͘͝o̸̢͇̝̠̱̗̲᷂͑ͫͩ̋ͤu̸̜̙̬̮͌᷅ͭ᷉ ḍ̶᷿̲̗̗͒̿︠ͯͣ᷆ͦ̔ͬ͘o̷᷊̫᷇᷃᷄́̏̃̚͝͠n̸̼̳̘̟ͥ︣'̵̨̱̪͖̲͖̐̈͂̑̈̿̍͐͝͞t̶̯̦̝͇͈̯̻̔̈́︢᷆︠̂᷈︡͢͢͝͞ h̷͉̩̤ͮ᷀̆̈́ͫ᷀̉a̸̧̮̣̖̟̪̟᷆ͦv̴̙ͥ̓ẹ̸̢̨̹́̆̓︢᷉͟ ţ̶͎̱̭̬̲̝̝̆ͯ̀͐᷁᷄︡᷇͝ǫ̵̧̹̱͕͈̱͈͇ͫ͢ b̴̡᷿̹᷂͉̘̙̄͐ͦ̋᷄͌é̵̤͕̞͉᷊̘̉͑͐ͭ a̴̡̠̞ͭ᷁︣ͬ̎᷁͝n̶̨᷿̩̙̹᷊᷂ͤi̶̢̢̫̺̦͓͖̭̞̾͢m̷̯͈̼̪̼̝̂́︠̎́̔̌͞a̷᷊ͭ︡t̵͚͂̑ę̶̜͓̟ͣ͐̈͜͟ ť̷̨̛̛̫̰̙̭̱̖ͦ̑̀͗ǫ̷̘̰̆͡ d̶̦͕̖̭͔̞͈͖̣ͯ︢̉ͣ̍͘o̴̙᷂̦̫̗̲ͮ́᷆͗̏͜ ṯ̴̖͇͖̖̋͜͟h̴̲ͪͯa̶᷂͇̝͕̼̋᷈͆̚t̸̛̘᷿̖᷿͕̦̩̻͟͜.̷̳͎͔̱᷿̻̓ͩͯ᷉ͩ̕"̴̡͎̳̟̠̹ͫ᷁᷁̌

Satan laughed,

laughed,

laughed. “How dreadfully delightful!"

“It’s always nice to make new friends, isn’t it?” Julia smiled, wider.

Satan put out his cigarette. “Which reminds me, you’ll need a production supervisor, in addition to the crew you've already assembled. Someone to keep everything running smoothly, and help acquire your guests.”

“I will?” Julia had assumed she would be allowed to select her own victims. Guests. Whatever.

“Well, yes, we want to present a professional front to the station, and you may know a lot about painting, Julia, but I don’t think you know about lighting, cinematography, editing…”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” She was a little irritated, but she could play nicely enough with others, if Satan thought them worthy.

“So to that end, allow me to introduce your new best friend-“

“I thought _you_ were my best friend.”

“-Nathan.”

A bearded, smiling man who appeared to be presenting himself in roughly the same age category as Julia was now sitting in a chair to Julia’s left. He looked surprised by his new surroundings, but not displeased.

“Oh, hey,” Nathan said, turning to Julia. “Are you my new boss?”

“Yes,” said Julia.

“No,” said Satan. “Nathan, you’ll be working as Julia’s associate producer and also booking guests to appear on her new show. What was it you wanted it to be called?”

“The Fear of Painting,” Julia said tersely.

“Oh, that’s a nice name. I like that name,” Nathan piped up.

Julia turned to Nathan. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

“Oh, sorry.” He was still smiling. Julia hated that.

“Julia,” Satan said sternly. “Be nice to Nathan. He’ll be paying your expenses, including for new painting supplies.”

“I will?” said Nathan. “I mean, that’s cool. It’s just this is the first time you’re mentioning this to me, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, okay, then I won’t.”

There was a long pause, during which Julia considered that perhaps having someone to bother with all the annoying details of running an show was useful, and would give her more time to focus on the things she enjoyed.

Then Nathan said, “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“How do I book guests?”

Some time later, Julia arrived at a small, unassuming studio halfway between Hell and a major metropolitan area in the United States of America. (She hadn’t bothered looking into which one)

Much to her annoyance, Nathan was already there, enthusiastically checking camera angles and chatting amiably with Julia’s friends in the Void.

“H E L L O N A T H A N ,” they said.

“Hi guys! I’m so glad you could make it for our first show, I think it’s gonna be really special.”

“W E ’ R E S O G L A D Y O U C O U L D M A K E I T T O O , N A T H A N ." 

"Grea-"

"S O O N Y O U W I L L B E W I T H U S A N D W E W I L L B E W I T H Y O U .”

“That’s cool, I guess. Where am I going? Er, am I going, or are you coming here?"

Julia cleared her throat, and Nathan started a bit, but the Void had that sort of effect on people.

“Oh hi, Julia! How are you?”

Julia just stared at him until she saw his smile begin to twitch uncomfortably (which was far longer than she’d expected, admittedly) then smiled. “I’m fine. Where's our new friend?”

“Oh yeah, he’s outside looking for parking. He’s been circling for at least an hour, actually.”

Julia frowned. “He didn’t take Worm Train?”

“I’m… not sure anybody takes Worm Train. Anyway, he’ll find a spot whenever you’re ready to begin.”

“And you’ll go away?”

Nathan laughed, inexplicably. “Yes, I will go away. Unless there’s something else you wanted me to do, like closed captioning or-“

“Captions?” Ah, so people could follow along and create their own summoning rituals at home. Or paint pictures, she supposed. Either or both suited Julia. “Yes, I would like captions. For each paint color.”

“Oh, that’s not really the sort of captions I was thinking-“ Nathan paused, possibly because Julia was giving him a pointed look. “Y-yeah, I can do that. Captions for each paint color! What a cool idea.”

“It is.” Julia glanced at the easels, and two of her grunts dragged out canvases. “I was told whoever you booked is interested in painting women made out of gold?”

“Yeah, that’s… one way of putting it. I actually said The Golden Girls?”

“As I said, women made of gold.”

Nathan’s smile wavered uncomfortably again. “Uh, yeah. I take it you don’t get a lot of re-runs of old sitcoms where you're from?”

Julia frowned. “Explain."

“Sitcoms? They're a kind of TV comedy about a group of people who do… stuff together. Usually.”

“Ah, I see. Such as picnics?”

“Yeah!”

“Barbecues?”

“Yeah.”

“Animal sacrifices?”

“…Not usually, but I mean, I don’t see why they couldn’t.” Nathan’s eyes avoided hers as he dug through his pockets, finally pulling out a somewhat crumbled piece of paper. “Here, I made you a reference!”

It was not, as Julia had expected, a photograph. In fact it was a printed but unmistakably drawn image of several aged women smiling.

“You made this.” It was not a question.

“Yeah…” Nathan looked almost embarrassed, though she couldn’t fathom why. It was a good drawing. “I can get a photo instead if you want, though, it’s not too late.”

“You’re an artist.”

“Yeah?” Nathan blinked. “Wait, did Satan not tell you that? That’s part of why he thought we’d work well together. He showed me some of your work too, I was really impressed! And kind of terrified, but I think that was what you were going for?”

It was amazing, Julia thought, how much less she disliked Nathan now than she had ten minutes ago. Five minutes ago? Time was an illusion, it didn’t matter.

“Excellent. Now, tell me more about these Golden Girls.”

The pilot episode went well, Julia thought. Brent was now with his cherished golden women (or at least, versions of them) forever preserved in oils, and she could feel his life force resonating in her hands and brushes, rejuvenating her and adding luster to her colors.

And then Nathan said, “Hey Julia, uh, quick question?”

Julia inhaled power and exhaled ice-cold fear.

And then, very tightly, said, “What.”

“Is that going to happen to all our guests? Because I might need to make sure we’ve got insurance that covers… soul trapping.”

That brought Julia down to Hell, at least a little bit. “Of course we’re insured. I have a room full of lawyers.”

“Oh, right.” Still, Nathan looked troubled. “It’s just that it might get tricky after a while to find new guests if none of them ever escape, you know?”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “You can always be next.”

“Then again, it’ll probably be fine!” Nathan laughed nervously. “I mean, people volunteer for all sorts of crazy reality shows, right? It’s fine. And I mean, who says they have to volunteer, right?”

Julia just smiled.

“Okay.” Nathan paused. “I think maybe I should also call _my_ lawyer. For no reason in particular.”

The essence of Brent’s soul was swirling and coalescing before her eyes into a beautiful blue waterfall. She did not particularly care what Nathan did at the moment, so long as he brought her another friend when the time was right.

She raised her hand, and a fresh canvas appeared before her.

It was time to paint.

**Author's Note:**

> Nathan is either the same Nathan as in Cartoon Hell, or just in this situation for similar reasons. 
> 
> I can neither confirm nor deny that Julia's lawyers are vampires.
> 
> Worm Train, for any uninitiated: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7x_Agf5zmq8


End file.
